


Anopheles

by BlackRose



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Fever, Gen, I'm shocked that 'malaria' has its own tag, M/M, Malaria, Once again I blame the Discord, Sickfic, The title is the scientific name of the kind of mosquitos that give you this bitch of a disease, Two Endings, Why do I hurt this boy so much?, the death is later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23568736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackRose/pseuds/BlackRose
Summary: Years ago in a warmer place, Buck got sick for the first time. Now in the aftermath of the tsunami, the truck bombing, the lawsuit---it's returned with a vengeance. Can Eddie and the others figure it out in time?
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 222
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	1. Return

Buck could feel it beginning. 

That too-familiar heaviness, settling over him like a thick blanket. The exhaustion sinking into his bones, promising aches and poor sleep to come. The teasing little headache, just enough to make him feel sluggish and put him off his food. He knew what this was, though he'd assumed he would eventually outgrow it. He hadn't refilled his doxycycline in months; between the explosion, surgeries, PT, the tsunami and its aftermath, then the lawsuit----he was doing good just to have his job back. 

Not to say, of course, that he yet had his old footing back yet with his colleagues; only Hen had welcomed him back. The rest seemed happier to pretend he didn't exist. Unless it came to washing the trucks, restocking the supplies, doing all the dishes for the house, and whatever other awful, petty chores they could think to pile on. He had no outward complaints; he was just so relieved to be back. So why get their ire flared up again by mentioning, for example, that his eyes hurt, and that the last time this had happened it had resulted in hospitalization? Or that the way he could feel his joints icing over heralded shaking chills later that night? No. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad this time. Besides, if the team couldn't even tell, being in this close proximity to him on a daily basis, maybe it was best not to alarm them. They were busy saving other, worthier lives. He could wait. It would be a sort of game, he decided, to see how long he could go without being 'caught'. This he decided, pushing away his nearly-full plate at dinner with as bright a smile as he could manage. 

"Gotta get back in shape, ya know. I lost a lot of ground, with the surgeries n'all."

Bobby gave him a searching frown, but nodded, directing him to collect the plates of everyone else who was finished and get started on washing them. Water was good. Easier to splash on his face if he could feel the heat washing over him. He could claim he was just warm from standing by the oven, and reaching into the hot sink water. If need be, he could open the freezer and let it blow on him for a bit. Just enough to pretend. He smiled at Chim and nodded his thanks at the latter bringing everyone else's plates in, quickly scraping them into the trash before he had to smell what had been on them. The EMT handed over the dishes and studied him with a skeptical eye.

"You're flushed. You doing ok?"

Buck nodded as emphatically as he dared, given how dizzy it made him. 

"Yeah it...warm day day today. Maybe I'm a little dehydrated."

Chim turned to the fridge, retrieving a bottle of water which he all but shoved at Buck. 

"Drink. We're not strong enough to carry you if you get heatstroke."

Arms folded, he leaned on the counter to watch Buck sip most of the bottle. Somehow he swallowed while managing not to race for the trashcan. He'd navigated enough hangovers to be able to vomit almost silently if he had to, but it would still work best if everyone was asleep; there'd be less to explain. 

"Noted. Thanks man."

Chimney looked for a moment as if he wanted to say more, but seemed to think better of it and went to rejoin the others instead. It didn't take much to have Bobby dismiss him to turn in early. The bunkroom securely closed and locked, Buck whipped off his uniform shirt---already soaking through in icy sweat--in favor of a lighter cotton one. The chill in the room sent a shiver through him, stirring up the unease in his gut. A glance at the plastic-lined bottom of the wastebasket was all it took; he buried his face in it and heaved as quietly as he could. The cramps nearly brought tears to his eyes, but all he could hear was Eddie demanding he suck it up. Grow a thicker skin. Be a real man. By the time the nausea subsided he was panting and shaking so hard it was difficult to stay upright. Definitely time to try sleeping. With a muffled groan he burrowed as deep into the blankets as possible. Every fiber of him was crying out for warmth. 

He dreamed a confused whirl of color and suffering. He thought, for a time, that he was lying inside a giant oven. He had to lie as still as he could; he was being cremated and it would all be ruined if he moved too much. But how could he be so bone-deep cold if everything around him was on fire? Did Maddie know? She wouldn't let them burn him alive---right?! It was that panicked uncertainty that jolted him awake, grabbing wildly for the trashcan. The smell of his earlier sickness had him reusing it more violently this time. This was...this was all wrong. He'd messed up again. He had to tell Bobby; no use lying to him. Pops would find out, no matter what. Somehow he got to his feet, moving as cautiously as he could. The name of the game was not giving it away; that was key. The Captain was at the table finishing up the day's reports. He looked up and then stood quickly as Buck shuffled towards him. He was the one who managed to steady him, stop him falling. 

"I screwed it up, Bobby---m'sorry....I tried...so hard..."

He barely heard the Captain's response; everything was fuzzing out into icy gray. The last thing he saw were Eddie's eyes boring into him. Cutting him to the bone. Hating him for his failure.


	2. Stricken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR CONTENT WARNING FOR DEPICTION OF SEIZURES

"Something's not right with him."

Eddie watched Buck head into the kitchen with a trained medic's eye. Yeah, he was trying to hide it but it's there. The way his hand went to his stomach for a second when he thought they didn't see---lower quadrant pain? The slightest falter in his step that he couldn't quite blame on tiredness or too many beers. The sheer un-Bucklike quiet as he sat picking at his plate and looking at each of them as if he worried they might suddenly throw something at him. But Eddie can't go after him. Not yet. The abandonment, the hurt was still too raw under Eddie's skin. If he went to confront Buck things would get ugly. That anger would flare in him, and suddenly it would be Buck's blood on his knuckles, and there would be a fear in those beautiful eyes that will never go away. He knew that much about himself. 

So Bobby sent Chimney in, to 'see what's up'. He returned empty-handed, but with a suspicion in his eyes. 

"He won't tell me. Just says he thinks he's dehydrated. I gave him some water. If he still seems off tomorrow, maybe have him be man behind. We need our crew at the top of their game."

And while that's true, Eddie silently agreed, he nonetheless couldn't chase away the nagging worry. 

It blossomed full-on just after midnight. Eddie was reading in the tv area, trying to quiet his mind into sleep as Bobby filled out his reports at the table, a reassuring presence nearby. The bunkroom door creaked and Buck emerged, squinting in the lamplight as if it hurt his eyes. Instantly Eddie was on his feet; he knew that look. He suspects every parent does; that flushed, sleepy-eyed confused expression Christopher always got when he was running a fever. Buck didn't seem to notice him; he was speaking to Bobby, but in a slurry mumble that made no sense. Was that vomit on his shirt? Before either could ask him Buck's head snapped back, his arm twitching and his whole body shaking. Bobby just managed to catch him before he cracked his head on the floor, shouting for Hen and Chim as they eased him down into the recovery position. The paramedics were up the stairs in an instant, Chim's bag out and ready. As he knelt beside Buck--whose eyes were still rolled back in his head, though the convulsions had given way to a horrifying rigidity--he looked to Bobby. 

"Prior history?"

"None, so far as I know. His medical history listed nothing like this, and I'm sure at some point he or Maddie would tell us--"

"Here's why," Hen cut in grimly, showing them the infrared thermometer she'd just passed over Buck's forehead. The reading said 105 Farenheit or 40.5 Celsius. Eddie's heart dropped into his stomach as his hands went numb. This wasn't just some ploy on Buck's part. Something was really, seriously wrong here. 

Buck seemed for an instant to be coming around---but then he made an awful, croaking cry and fell back into seizing. Bobby was quick to radio in to dispatch that they were transporting a patient and unavailable to respond to any calls, as Hen and Chim managed to maneuver Buck onto a stretcher and load him into the ambulance. Eddie had to force himself to breathe calmly, to fight his hands not to shake as he started his truck. There was no room to ride with him; the EMTs needed space to work if Buck had any chance----

He clipped that thought off at the root, and managed not get pulled over on the way to the hospital. 

From the panicked hurrying to get Buck there in time, handing him off to doctors and nurses, to the agonizing wait in the little room off the ICU. No word. No word for what felt like ages. Maddie arrived, eventually. Chim must have called her. She melts into him, sobbing quietly into his shoulder. Bobby's face was gray as he kept a steady watch on the door. Standing ready to be on his feet the instant someone might appear with information. 

"Family of Evan Buckley?"

Everyone stood up. The doctor gave them a tired smile and raised her hands placatingly. 

"He's stable. We're going to want to keep him a few days to see if we can't get that fever down, but so far he's responding well to treatment. I must say, it's not often we get a case like his stateside."

Maddie gave a fragile smile and wiped her eyes. 

"He picked it up years ago, surfing in Argentina. He has medication for it but he must have lapsed in taking it. Can... can I see him?"

The doctor nodded but added, "The room is rather small, and he's been through a lot, so I'd advise only two or three visitors at a time."

Of course, Maddie brought Chimney and Bobby in with her. That made perfect sense. Anyhow, Eddie wasn't sure he could handle seeing Buck right then. As they vanished through the fire doors, Eddie made some excuse about needing the bathroom around the lump in his throat and stalked off to hide in the stall and cry.


	3. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is the 'canon', or 'good' ending.

Time wasn't real for him anymore. He remembered the lightning sizzling colorfully around him, a crazy, dizzying strobe that made his head throb. Bobby was there, swimming above him, and Chim---why were they stabbing him with that little needle? Cool poison flowed into his arm as Hen mouthed down at him, 'you're ok, Buckaroo'. 

He was suddenly too tired to ask what that meant. 

When he surfaced, it was in a cold dim room, metal glinting in the low light. The abrasive bleach smell, the steady beep of machines, the sudden whine of an automated blood pressure cuff inflating around his arm--hospital. He was in the hospital. They must have figured it out, then. He could move but not much; his bones still ached and now they were made of lead. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open enough to scan the room.. 

Athena was in the chair by his bed; it was her hand in his, thumb stroking along the back in a way that made it even harder to stay awake. He tried to tell her how sorry he was, but his throat was too dry to do more than whisper. He knew she heard, though, because she blinked her eyes dry and leaned over to kiss his forehead. 

"Go back to sleep, Buckaroo."

People entered and left the room. It became common for soft voices to murmur outside the door. Nurses and techs, getting and giving report. He was fairly sure he had at least 1 bath, and every so often someone would hold a bedpan for him or feed him. It was still so, so damned hard to stay awake though, to take in what the doctor said. It didn't help that said doctor tended to come in while the room was still dark, as Buck was trying to emerge from muddled-up dreams. The clearest thing he recalled was when suddenly he could open his eyes again and felt so, so much better. Weak, certainly----but he could tell the fever had broken and his body had won the battle with the parasite. Better still, his two favorite boys were sitting in the chairs by his bed this time. Chris was out cold on his dad's lap giving adorable little-kid snores. Eddie was stroking his hair absently, almost in a trance. His eyes were puffy-pink and weirdly glazed. It looked like he'd been up all night crying. Why was he so upset?!

Buck shifted in bed---it was much easier now; they seemed to have taken the wires and that awful, heavy box off his chest---and found the button that moved the head of it. It raised him up with a whine and a creak that startled the two wake. Chris blinked and rubbed at his eyes.

"Bucky?!?"

Buck smiled back at him and opened his arms for a hug. Chris squirmed until Eddie set him down and scrambled over. Luckily his bed had the rails down, so his favorite little man could just lean right over onto him and get kissed on the head.

"I missed that most of all, buddy."

Christopher was struggling to get up beside him; Eddie laughed to fight back a sob and helped him up---tucking him into Buck's side. Buck still seemed so exhausted; it was all he could do to pull Eddie's son--- _their_ son; Eddie was fooling exactly no one--to him and kiss his curls.

"Dad says you got sick."

"That's right. I did a dumb thing, Superman. A long time ago my doctor gave me medicine to take. I started to feel better, though, so I stopped taking it. Lo and behold---I got sick again. So always listen to your doctors, right? They know what to do and what you need."

Christopher placed his tiny hand on Buck's cheek, turning him to look at him directly.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Buck! Dad and I will help!"

Buck smiled wanly.

"Oh yeah? Gonna look after me, little man?"

"Yeah! Dad, we got a guestroom right? Bucky should stay with us 'til he's better."

Eddie's heart squeezed--damn if he hadn't been thinking that exact same thing every time he'd dropped in to see that, no, Buck wasn't lucid yet, his temperature still hovering in the range of too-damn-high. It had scared him in ways he hadn't been prepared for; he'd never seen his best friend that colorless. Were it not for the rosy flush across his cheekbones he'd have blended right in with the pillows. So many times he'd almost spoken to him. Almost taken that brave, stupid, stubborn, gorgeous man's hand and told him exactly how he felt about him. How some days he wasn't sure if he wanted more to smack him or kiss him senseless. How terrified he was when the doctors had started throwing around words like _cerebral malaria_ and _liver damage_ and _next of kin_. How completely Buck had stolen his heart; how by this point he might just as well get the damned thing monogrammed. E. B, so the whole damn world knew who he belonged to. 

But he was a coward, so he had said exactly none of that. Instead he settled for just holding Buck's hand. Sending mental pleas to those saints his grandmother lit candles for. What the _fuck_ did they need with a firefighter?! His home was down here with them! Just....sat, and waited for him to wake up. Now here he was, awake and lucid, and looking at Eddie like he was half afraid of him and half wanted to kiss him. Fuck it. Why not?

"Ed--"

Whatever it had been---apology, protest, joke---died away into a contented sigh as Eddie brushed his lips to Buck's. It felt awkward at first---his last kiss had been Shannon, so many years ago--but he quickly discovered it was similar to riding a bike; you never truly forgot how. Even better, Buck was eagerly responding, kissing him with as much fervor as he could muster while still convalescing in a hospital bed. 

When they came up for air, there was an entirely different reason for the pink flush across Buck's cheeks. His eyes shone with all the words he was still too worn out to say. But his grip was strong when he clasped Eddie's hands. Two squeezes-- _Love you._ Buck's smile lit up the whole damn room as he squeezed back three times. _Love you too._

Two days later Eddie pulled up to Buck's apartment with a bag and a list. He was only here for a few things Buck would need; the rest they could buy or loan him. He'd called a local realtor to start the process of listing his loft; once he was a bit stronger they'd come back with the rest of the crew to sort things out by what could be sold versus donated. All the appliances and everything else would go with the apartment. The Diazes were moving their Buck in with them.


	4. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the non-canon, 'bad' ending. This is the death I warned you about. 
> 
> There's only a piece of Spanish this time:
> 
> 'My love'

They moved him into the ICU directly upon admission. All manner of wires and tubes hooked to his body tried to give his battered immune system a fighting chance. Eddie proceeded to make exactly one hundred-thirty-seven circuits of the little waiting area. Watched Maddie crumple three dozen tissues unused. Patted Hen's back a few times. All in the name of avoidance, of not thinking about what had to be happening on the other side of those doors. The doctor emerged, looking tired. 

"Maddie Buckley?"

She stood up so fast she nearly knocked over the cold vending machine coffee she'd been pretending to sip. The doctor's expression changed then, and a ringing began in Eddie's ears, drowning out the _I'm sorry_ and _In spite of our best efforts_ and all the other doom he knew must be coming. They took her back into Buck's room. She was in there forty-five minutes and returned a sobbing mess. Wordlessly Chim gathered her to him, rocked her, speaking to her softly. Together, they conferred quietly with Bobby, who suddenly looked like he'd aged ten years. As the two of them left, leaning on each other, the Captain turned to his crew to officially update them on what was going on. 

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.

Any second now, Eddie was going to wake up; BUCK was going to wake up; maybe yell 'APRIL FOOLS'!' and laugh at him for buying into the prank so completely. It was May, though. And unless the handful of doctors, nurses, even a priest, were all in on it---this wasn't a prank. Which meant Buck was really lying there, lost in the maze of water-filled glass tubes meant to cool his overheated body, his blood cloudy and dark with the shed plasmodia as he lost the fight against the parasite. The hiss and whine of the ventilator forcing him to breathe, it was real too. So was the decision they'd asked Maddie to make.

As his Power of Attorney, the choice was hers. She alone, legally, could decide whether to keep her brother tethered to the life-support machines---or disconnect him, and say goodbye. When she couldn't stop crying enough to give them a coherent answer, they'd administered a sedative and had Chimney drive her home. She was tucked up in their apartment now, held by the man she loved---while the man Eddie loved was lying there, helpless. Fighting for his life. That fight seemed to be weakening every day, every hour. Maddie knew what she had to do. Eddie knew what she had to do. But that didn't mean he wouldn't be crushed by it.

"Please, _mi amor_ ," he whispered in Buck's ear as he stroked back a damp forelock, "please, come back to us, man. I...I can't lose you too. I can't. Don't make me bury my heart with you, please."

For a moment his heart flurried as Buck's fingers tightened around his---but then he was diving for the call button as he realized the whole left side of Buck's body was spasming. Another seizure. More chance of brain damage. His heart broke as, just for an instance, Buck's eyes opened. Bloodshot sky-blue, wild and terrified. There was the briefest instant, before Eddie was ushered from the room, that Buck's gaze locked with his. He thought Buck was shaking his head emphatically, no.

_'Don't keep me like this. I don't want to live this way.'_

It was all he could do to safely drive home through the mist of tears.

When the call came the next morning, he wasn't surprised to see Maddie's number, nor to hear the sobs she was trying to choke back. He barely processed a word she said, his mind reeling with _how do I tell Christopher?_ and _how will I live without him?! How will any of us live without him??_

For the longest time after hanging up, all he could do was sit on the couch, staring into space and letting his tears fall unchecked. When his son came shuffling into the room Eddie made an effort to dry his eyes and compose himself---but then he saw the boy's red, dripping eyes and all he could do was pull him into his arms and hold him. All Christopher knew, concretely, was that his hero was very sick, and was in the hospital to get taken care of. Eddie had done what he could to shield his little boy from the worst of it; he didn't want him to worry unduly. But the time for pretense was gone now. Now was the time for goodbyes to be said.

Maddie authorized termination of life support. Tomorrow afternoon, Buck would be disconnected, and allowed to peacefully slip away.

The entire 118 came to see him---one last time. Even Bobby, who looked as if a piece of his heart is dying with his surrogate son. There was no room for them all to crowd in, even though staff moved Buck into a larger room. So two by two they went in for a few quiet moments, paying respects, talking to their adoptive little brother. Wishing him peace and relief of suffering. Buck was too deeply sedated to even stir. He was getting heavy pain relief and sleep medication. Those baby blues would never open again. Eddie knew this, but somehow he couldn't stop praying. Wishing, just once, that his thoughts could somehow silently reach Buck. 

_I love you so much. I will always love you. You better save a spot for me, you beautiful cowboy, because someday I'm coming to join you and I will kiss you into oblivion, you understand me???_

Another twitch, Buck's fingers grasping his. A blurred sigh around the morphine.

"Luff y'."

Chris sobbed openly, burrowing into Buck's neck. The dying man tried, struggled to hold him, even as he could't quite breach the surface.

"Be ok, kid. Good boy. Strong. Love you, love y'dad. "

The Diaz boys kissed him on each cheek, rewarded with a wan smile.

"Tell Mommy I love her, and give her a hug for me ok Bucky? Will you?"

"Always, Sup'rman. Take care...yr'dad, n'Aunt Maddie for me, ok? Promise?"

Promises made, they squeezed him one last time---inhaling deep that cologne that to them meant strength, and love, and safety, and then they stepped out, so someone else could take a turn.

Eddie and Chris were picking at cheeseburgers in the hospital cafeteria, when a wave of cold dread washed over Eddie. Without looking at his phone, he knew. Their Buck was gone.


End file.
